Page 13 of Lies and Other Drugs

Walking to her bedroom, I breathed in the disgusting smell of death and mold before going to her nightstand. Sure enough, the pistol was sitting right there. Locked and loaded.

I’d never touched a gun. Didn’t know how to disarm it and didn’t have enough respect for that thing to treat it the way it deserved. I was the poster child for who not to give a weapon to, shrouded in ignorance and hatred. But I picked up the surprisingly heavy pistol and placed it gently in my purse, using my favorite belly shirt of Mrs. Mulberry's to wrap it up in. It was easy. Too easy.

I didn’t ask where Samuel was taking me. He had that nice-guy hero complex. Not necessarily because heenjoyedhelping others, but because it inflated his already massive ego. When he saw a woman in need, he got off on thinking he could save her. So when we arrived at his building, I didn’t say a word. What better way to learn about my enemies than to live with them?

“Nathaniel will be...out...till tomorrow. Once he gets back, we can talk about plans moving forward,” Samuel said with a smile before pocketing his cell phone. “I know this is all hard for you, but maybe it’s a good thing, Octavia. Maybe now you can go home and live out your life. It’s what William would have wanted.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t realize you were the expert of what my dead brother wanted. And if you don’t want me here, just say so. Don't use my brother’s wishes to manipulate me.”

Samuel’s eyes widened at me. For a moment, there was nothing but shock on his pretty face, but then he relapsed before saying, “You’re right. I don’t want you here. You bring up a lot of sad memories for Nathaniel. He was just starting to move on when you showed up,” Samuel said before grabbing my ratty suitcase and walking inside. I guess regardless of if he wanted me there or not, I was going to stay with them.

I yelled at his retreating back, “Well then I showed up just in time.”

We moved what little belongings I had upstairs. As I set my suitcase in the corner of their guest room, Samuel observed me, mumbling about amenities and some other bullshit that didn’t really matter. All the while, my fingers itched to grab my cell phone from my pocket and listen to William’s voicemail again. Over the last year, it had become my coping mechanism. It was that little digital place where he was alive and still needed me.

I went back in the living room and put the phone up to my ear, closing my eyes as his voice soothed me over, redirecting my misplaced grief into something that made sense. I barely knew Mrs. Mulberry. She was nice enough, yes. We lived comfortably, yes. She was vibrant and kind and eccentric and everything I wanted to be.

But the last thing she told me before she died and the heavy feel of her gun in my purse were making me anxious. Samuel was perched in the living room, staring at me as I paced the floor. Holding my phone up to my ear, I listened to William’s voice over and over.

“I love you,”William said until I could almost pretend that he was still alive. Samuel just watched me pace, like I was a tiger in his living room. It made me feel rabid.

“Do you have vodka?” I asked, those familiar tingly impulses rising to the surface. It was time to dive headfirst into something—anything. Mrs. Mulberry loved to drink. It seemed fitting I’d pay homage to her by doing something I absolutely hated.

“Yeah. But I’m not giving you any.” His voice was calm but strong. I snapped my head to Samuel, smiling at how cute he looked when he thought he could control me. He was biting his lip. Did seeing me all worked up, all broken, turn him on?

I made my way over to Samuel and stood on my toes, brushing my chest against his. “What are you doing?” he asked. I absorbed his confused expression while twisting my mouth into a wide smile.

“Forgetting.”

I kissed him. And just like my kiss with Nathaniel, ours was terrible. Lackluster. Unenthusiastic.

At first.

He didn’t want to like kissing the girl that had a gun in her purse and a vendetta on her mind. But he did. His tongue was full of reluctance as I opened for him, devouring him whole while I took each little part of my attention and poured it into him.

I had an obsessive personality. I could only focus on one thing at a time. I let my passions consume me until there was nothing left. It was a blessing and a curse, living that way. Always observing. Always diving headfirst into my ideas. My passions.

And in that moment, I allowed myself to be obsessed with Samuel. I convinced myself that I was addicted to his touch, and then I drank him up. His hand went to my ass as he squeezed. His other hand cupped my breast. Our breathing blended together as we huffed like teenagers, using each other up until there was nothing left.

Groaning into my mouth, he tried to guide me to his room, but I didn’t let him. There was something intoxicatingly tempting about doing this right where we were. What if Youngblood walked in? Would it hurt? Maybe my obsessions could shake hands then laugh in the face of one another. “I know you’re hoping that he’ll see us,” Samuel said.

So the pretty boy was intuitive? I’d assumed as much, but now I knew for sure. I wondered if each kiss was giving him deeper access to my mind. The idea made me laugh. My mind was a dangerous place. He’d get trapped there like Noah if he wasn’t careful. “And I know you’re just using me…” he added.

“Oh really? What tipped you off? The fact that my roommate just died or my lackluster kisses?”

Samuel pulled away, shaking his head in disbelief. He then stared at me like I was a puzzle he needed to figure out. “I’ll let you use me, Octavia. I happen to like being used, especially by pretty women like you.”

He leaned forward, placing the ghost of a kiss at my neck, his tender lips hovering over my pulse like it was supposed to turn me on. The twisting sensation in my stomach was a goddamn liar. “But if you’re gonna use me? You’re gonna enjoy it. And it’s going to be onmyterms.” Samuel pulled back before bending to connect his shoulder with my stomach, hoisting me up and carrying me to his bedroom. I dropped my phone in the living room, leaving my brother’s last message behind. It was like dropping a weight.

Samuel’s room wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Dark curtains, grey bedding. The wood furniture was bulky and timeless. There was a lacrosse stick propped up against the wall and a picture of him and a pretty girl on the nightstand. I didn’t care enough to ask who she was, but noticed that they had the same shade of green eyes and bright blond hair. Maybe Samuel had someone he loved.

“This means nothing, okay?” I said as he dug around in a dresser drawer for what I assumed was a condom. He had his back to me, so I took a moment to strip from my work outfit. I didn’t even shave my legs today, that’s how much I cared about this fuck. I wouldn’t be faking any moans for his benefit. Nor would I drop to my knees and worship his cock like it mattered.

“This meanseverything,” he argued, and when Samuel turned around, it wasn’t that square foil package I’d come to recognize in his hand. No, he had a blindfold and handcuffs.

Kinky. Intriguing.

“So you’re into bondage? You gonna tie me up, Samuel?” I was hot just thinking about it. My pulse was picking up, and I stared at him longingly.

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